


Prelude: Not Just Passing Time

by drakonlily



Series: Fighting For a Chance [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drama, General, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-29
Updated: 2009-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakonlily/pseuds/drakonlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reeve and Scarlet were caught in-between their lives and caught up in ShinRa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking Back

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: the following fiction is only in regards to the FF7 game © Squarenix 1997. With the new things coming out, I've taken some liberties with characters and plotting, but not breaking the actual events within the game. Set up to be a prequel to the Fighting for a Chance Series.

_ **Not Just Passing Time** _

There's something that I have to tell you. What  
I have become and  
everything that I have done.

All of it.

You knew me through it all  
and with regard to everything, there  
still is you and I.

If I was the type I think that

I would cry.

Not for all the things I have done,  
or for my dirty hands.  
But because you are the one thing  
that I have taken seriously.  
The one thing I want forever.

You seem to think though,  
that I am

just passing time.


	2. Prelude: Not Just Passing Time Chapter One: Trimalchio de Midgar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Not Just Passing Time  
> **_Chapter One: Trimalchio de Midgar

_**Not Just Passing Time  
**_Chapter One: Trimalchio de Midgar

He knew enough to know his mother wasn’t coming back.

Sure, he had hoped, for a while longer then most children would, that she’d walk in the door and hug him. But then again, she never hugged him much to begin with. Even her coldness would be preferred, however to the barrage of women insisting he call them “mommy”.

His father never said a word about it. When he didn’t respect them enough he was sent to his room. That suited the child fine. He’d rather be alone then watch his father lift some strange woman up on the counter. It was a shame he couldn’t close his ears as well as his eyes.

But he learned to live with them; after all, thirteen was an age where adaptation was second nature.

Then came Araby. She was different from the other women that his father carted home. The moment she saw him she stood stock still, like a cat looking at a rather threatening rat. Her sharp black eyes were already narrow, the ends pointed upwards when she forced a smile. “Such a cute young man.”

He didn’t like her, or the way she said the word “cute”. Of course, as they always loved to tell him, “what do you know Em? You’re just a kid.”

“_I know that true and false are not the same” _

_Moliere_

The mere fact that they had a child was amazing. After she was born, what they did with her was not. Scarlet. What a name for a little girl, and they never gave her a nickname. Hell, they actually managed to forget her name some times.

The child grew up serious, like her name, she was sharp, calculating. Maybe they did something right, she was far from stupid. In fact, she was so intelligent, it was disturbing.

“Scarlet.” That meant she wanted something, if the woman remembered her name. “Mix me up something would ya?”

The twelve-year-old pulled a stool up near the counter; hazel eyes scanned labels of medications and then darted over to the baggies and the plants hanging over the tables. She had learned to read at two, though her parents had been oblivious to this fact. The first person to pick up on it had been a man buying drugs off the woman.

Scarlet had never called her “mother”, she never addressed the man as “father” either. They didn’t seem to mind. They didn’t mind anything, for that matter, unless they needed something, they left her alone. It had always been that way, Scarlet saw no reason for it to change. She wasn’t happy, but she really wasn’t unhappy. She actually enjoyed mixing drugs. She had been rolling joints at four, experimenting on her parents at five. By ten she could fill a syringe better then any surgeon.

She handed the needle to the woman, not a word passed between them. The other person at the table was skinny, track marks almost glowed through her paste-toned skin. Some of the veins actually did glow slightly-a sign of shooting up raw mako. The person’s hair was clipped short, almost to the skin, if it was a man or woman would be left up to speculation. Androgynous was the best word to describe it, though the word was out of Scarlet’s vocabulary.

After the person shot up the other half of the syringe, its eyes flared. “Bring me summora dat kid?”

Scarlet snorted, “fifty gil.”

“_What does not destroy me, makes me stronger.”_

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

But she did come back.

He never asked why, she never offered the information to him. The door flew open, rousing him from the book he was reading in his room. It had been years, enough for him to forget little details, like the color of her eyes.

The three adults yelled from down the stairs. Never once was his name mentioned. Money was, Araby was, other words were yelled. Emmerson almost started reading again for a while, tuning out. When he reached the end of his chapter he sat his book down and started to the front door.

He saw her there and was reminded that her eyes were brown, like his.

The boy was told then to call Araby “Nanny” from now on. He had no idea who they thought they were fooling. His father still slept with Araby, it was obvious. It was, however, his mother that was in the will. This didn’t sit well with a woman like Araby, as could be expected.

He’d never liked her, he was certain she never liked him. Thus, when she entered his room on a night when his parents were away, it shocked him.

He was on his side, one arm supporting his head and the other holding a book. “What do you want?” Emmerson asked, not looking up. Though his back was not really to her, his mussed black hair would have obscured his vision at that angle anyway. He could hear her cross the room, still he didn’t look up. He felt her sit behind his knees and his body tensed up, still he pretended that ignoring her would make her go away.

Then her hand sat lightly on his knee. “Hey, what are you always doing in here all alone?”

“What does it look like I am doing?” Emmerson asked in an agitated tone.

Her hand started to move, rubbing and drifting slowly upwards. “Looks like you need to relax.”

The book flopped loudly on the floor as Emmerson jolted up. Automatically, his back pressed against the headboard. He gaped at Araby. The chemise she was wearing should have required a robe to be appropriate around her lover’s son. She smiled at him, leaning forward and looking more like a cat ready to pounce then he’d ever seen her before. It didn’t help that she was still too close for comfort.

“You can’t be happy holed up like this, can you?” She purred.

He swallowed a lump in his throat angrily. “You know, I could have sworn you were sleeping with my father.”

Araby didn’t miss a beat, instead she moved closer. “When I got here, you were just a little boy. You’ve grown up a lot, Em. And you’re father’s just getting old.” Her black eyes flicked up and down once before returning to his face. “And you, well, you’re certainly better looking.” She scooted closer, nearly on his lap, her hand found that place above his knee again. “I won’t say anything…”

He knew what she was playing at. If she couldn’t have the wealth of his father by being with the man, Araby would wait with Emmerson. Or try to talk the young man into collecting early. While he wouldn’t loose any sleep over his parent’s deaths, he loathed her, and felt the need to make the point abundantly clear. “I have something to say.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Araby rocked from side to side in an almost playful manner.

“Statutory rape. Get off me.”

Angry, Araby stood up, hands on her hips. “You little shit. You think you’re smarter then me kid? You think I’m not going to get that money sooner or later? I was willing to share, but you think you’re better then me.” She stormed to the door. “You blew it brat, watch your back.”

“_Hell is other people.”_

_Jean-Paul Sartre_

Scarlet woke up the same way she had always done. Fourteen years of the same thing, she made her way across the hall and halted. The man was laying half in his room. Upon further inspection, the woman was face down on the bed. They looked paler then usual. Scarlet got on her knees, feeling for a pulse.

There was none.

The only thing that remained was a needle in the woman’s thigh. The girl stood in the middle of the room and looked from one of them to the other. The man’s open eyes were cloudy, like a doll’s and fixated on nothing. The woman still clutched the sheet in a _rigor mortis_ strengthened grip.

Hands on hips that were overly curvy for her age, Scarlet frowned. Her fist thought was that they were going to be difficult to move. Her second was a sudden unwelcome feeling of loneliness. It was powerful enough to urge her to sit on the bed next to the woman. She wrapped her arms around herself, swallowing.

She couldn’t sit there any longer, without bothering to look back, the girl fled into the streets. Scarlet didn’t like the streets, there were people here that catcalled and chased her, but more often then not she was seen more as a dealer then a possible distraction. Still wrapping her arms around herself, she turned down an alley. There, at the end were three men that usually asked for her mix. They’d nicknamed it Red Bombshell. Though why Scarlet had yet to figure out.

“Hey, I need a favor.”

The one with the most teeth- though he lacked a good amount- cocked his head at her. “We don’t do things for free, baby.”

Scarlet stomped her foot and glared at them. “Look, you want me to stop selling to you? I said you are going to do me a favor, it wasn’t a question.”

They balked, faced with the rare empowered woman of the slums. She knew that they wanted to throw her against the wall and have their way with her, but Scarlet also knew that she had the power because they needed a fix and only hers would do. It was the dependence that made their choice. “Lead the way.”

She watched them critically as they tossed her parent’s bodies into the dumpsters behind the house. Without much speaking, they did the task quickly and thanked her for the reward that she dispersed in vials. While they were on their way out, an idea struck her. “Hey, if you guys can bring me more business, I’ll keep cutting you freebies.” They all grinned wider then they would have if she would have offered blow jobs. Feeling smug, she returned into the house.

“_There is a concept which corrupts and upsets all others. I refer not to Evil, whose limited realm is that of ethics; I refer to the infinite.”_

_Jorge Luis Borges_


	3. Prelude: Not Just Passing Time Chapter Two: Machiavellian Messenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Not Just Passing Time**_  
> Chapter Two: Machiavellian Messenger

_**Not Just Passing Time**_  
Chapter Two: Machiavellian Messenger

Life, after that, moved on alright in the Reeve home. Emmerson spent less time at home then usual. Not that his parents took notice. At any rate, Emmerson never really worried about much of anything, and rolled with the punches. He was determined not to let Araby or his parents get in the way with his primary goal, enjoying most of his life. And so, he usually came home to eat and sleep, doing more of the latter.

His dream was something almost real. He could feel a soft hand trace his stomach, circling at where his boxers started and drifting back up his chest. The movement was practiced, something that could have been calming if it wasn’t deliberately hitting the spots that made him shiver. Hair tickled his nose, then he could hear Araby. “I wish you were this….open while you were awake…”

He snapped awake immediately, brown eyes going wide. All Emmerson could make out were the narrow black eyes of Araby, staring down at him. He knew that this time he couldn’t exactly yell at her, his father would hear in the next room. “What are you doing? Get off of me.”

She laughed, moving her hand again, drawing her long nails along his stomach. He couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes and shivered. Damns her if she didn’t know what she was doing. “I meant it, when I said you were better looking then you’re father. You take care of yourself; you’ve got all that energy…” Her hand slid under Emerson’s boxers.

His eyes snapped open again, grabbing her wrist. “You just want the money.”

Araby’s own eyes widened a bit. “Well, now this is a pleasant surprise.” She chuckled at his face. “You know, the money’s just part of it, I know about things like spending money; all you need to do is sign checks. I’ll be whatever you want me to be…”

“You think I’m going to kill two people just—ahh!” He let go of her wrist as her hand started moving, he desperately wished that screaming would have been an option. He wanted to throw her across the room before she broke him down.

“You aren’t going to miss them. All the stuff you build in here, the guns, the toys, haven’t you ever thought of just collecting your inheritance?” She smiled down at him, thoroughly enjoying herself.

His breathing was haggard by now, angry at himself for letting her do this to him and angry with her for even thinking about it. “No, actually. I don’t-“ he swallowed again. “I don’t go around thinking about ways to screw with people.”

“What if I told you I’d take care of all the hard work?” Araby leaned closer again, her lips brushing up against his ear. “You should watch what you leave where people can find them Em.”

A glint of metal caught his eye when she rose up slightly. It was pretty well known that he tinkered with things. In fact he had gotten very good at creating automatic weapons with spare parts. And now Araby had one of his homemade works, held easily in her hand. Hate was a word he’d never felt like using before. Now he felt it, full and there was no other word for it.

“Now… why don’t you play nice Em?” She leaned forward again, brushing her lips against his.

“_If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.”  
Niccolo Machiavelli_

He followed her out of the room, growling at her. He didn’t need to go more then ten paces before he saw them at the bottom of the stairs. She’d already shot them, the gun had a silencer. Emmerson couldn’t form words, he gaped at her.

Araby, unlike the boy, hadn’t bothered to get dressed. She laughed. “Oh, come on, you didn’t have ANY fun?” She winked and started down the stairs slowly. “Such a fast learner-“ She didn’t get down the steps. He couldn’t fight with her before, but there was nothing stopping him now. He grappled for the gun with her for a few moments, attaining it but the trigger slipped before he could aim it.

She backed up and laughed. “Thanks Em, that made my life easier.”

It all clicked, suddenly. What she had just done. She set him up. Perfectly, without one thing going wrong, she had just screwed his life up beyond repair. From the rough sex and the DNA sample, to his prints on the gun and the powder on his hand- the weapon HE had made- she set him up. Lamely, Emmerson pulled the trigger; he knew the chamber was empty. She had only needed one bullet. Brown eyes glared at her.

“Ahh, there’s the look of a man around you.” She laughed. “I told you not to dick with me kid. You wanted to play like you’re better then me? You have no idea what a hard life is like. None.” She picked up the phone. “Well let’s see how well you play my game.”

Immediately she was transformed into a sobbing, terrified woman. He could almost hear the police officer over the other line, trying to calm her down. Emmerson knew very well what the penalty would be for this. Double homicide and rape with a deadly weapon? That was the death penalty… or worse, given he was only fifteen, life in jail with people as cold and deadly as Araby? With no other recourse, Emmerson ran up to his room, filled a bag and darted out the door. Araby waved at him with a smirk on his way out.

“_The more sand has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.”  
Niccolo Machiavelli_

Flashing lights down the street drove Emmerson to duck back into his own yard. He pressed his back against the dark side of the tool shed. He’d never been angry before, he’d never been full of hate like this. Emmerson Reeve had been a fairly well settled child, given his circumstances. He did well in school, was a bit of an inventor, and never wished anything against anyone. He was a nice guy, deep down at heart; he didn’t know that he’d had a darker side to him. He hadn’t thought he was capable of wanting someone dead.

Damnit if he didn’t want to shoot that bitch dead and piss on her corpse.

It hit him with no little shock that the fact that she’d tricked him into having sex with her wasn’t what he was most upset about. It wasn’t like he was a virgin, in fact, he’d been rather well known around the female student body. Reeve was laid-back, a nice person, and very low on the committal/stress level. A lot of people found that appealing and as long as no one got hurt, what was the harm in it? Sex, point blank, just wasn’t a big deal to him.

No, he was upset that she had outsmarted him, first and foremost. She led him around without any effort whatsoever. He was angry at himself. He crouched on the ground behind the shed, first reloading the gun and then thinking. Taking a shot at her tonight would be foolish. Staying on the plate at all would be ridiculous; he couldn’t do anything from jail.

Then he heard voices coming. Reeve scrambled up the first thing he could reach, the tree. He could see them clearly, three people. Two men and a woman, all of them were wearing dark blue suits, more obvious then the color and cut of their suits were their eyes. They were mako enhanced, but these weren’t SOLDIERS.

“What the feck we chase’n a kid fer again?” the blond man snapped. His hair was shaggy, falling into his glowing eyes. Other then that, he appeared neat and tidy, the suit was flawless, he stared at the grass as though it was a foreign body.

“Perhaps because they think he killed a ShinRa executive?” The black haired man responded, lighting a cigarette. His hair was jet colored, even in the night it stood out black. His eyes were very obviously blue, glowing intensely from the mako. His hair was messy as well, long and pulled up into a loose pony tail. His glasses rested on top of his head, pushing bangs around them and keeping the mess, for the most part, out of his face. “We all know the woman did it right? Not this kid we’re supposed ta kill?”

The blond looked disgruntled. “Who the hell cares who did it? One less suit in my life.” He coughed, turning his face away from the other man. “You always gotta fucking smoke when we walk out of a building, Vincent?”

“You always gotta bitch about it, Martin?” Came a smooth retort.

The woman’s hair was neater then her companions. It was up in a no nonsense pony tail that flipped up in the end. The honey brown shade matched her eyebrows, telling that it was her natural hair color. She pinched her nose and sighed. “Valentine, Cassio, if you two don’t stop the smegging bickering like women in heat, I’m going to kick both of you back to the sectors you were born in. Are we clear?”

She turned from the tree, glaring over at her companions; it was obvious she was the superior. “Cassio, I know you don’t like the fact that someone younger then you is you’re superior deal with it. Valentine, cut the attitude.”

Both men snorted. The woman looked around for a minute before grumbling. “The PD should be doing this, not Turks, Veld's going to have a fit.”

The black haired man, snickered then, mouth turning up in a smirk. "Velly's always throwing a fit."

The woman glowered at him. "And that would be your fault, nine times out of ten, Valentine." She sighed, a hand going to her temples. "If you would just focus for once in your life…"

"I will when I need to." Came the smug response.

The blond man – who had to be Cassio – frowned. There was something behind his eyes akin to jealousy, but his face was placid.

The woman sighed. "Jus, give me a minute." The other two waited in silence while she thought. “Alright then, Cassio, you go inside and talk to that Araby bitch. I’m going to talk to the PDs and look around the front. Valentine, you look out here.”

Emmerson swallowed, watching Cassio walk inside. The woman and the man shared a look after he had gone.

“He isn’t going to last long.” Vincent mumbled from around the cigarette.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know. We can’t run on two Turks though, you’d never see your girl at that rate. I would like to get another person in, but who can I put this much pressure on? Doesn’t help that we are doing grunt work.” She started to the front. “Oh, and Valentine? Use your head on this one.” She cast a glance up at the tree as she spoke.

"She's not my girl." Vincent called back and then lit a second cigarette with the butt of his first. “You know?” He started to no one in particular, though Emmerson got the sinking feeling the man knew he was there. “I’d wanna take a shot at the bitch myself. But there’s no chance a that right now. Best cut losses and make tracks to the slums. And I’d pick up a better thing to go by then “Emmerson.” With that, Vincent Valentine started away from the tree.

“_There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others.”  
Niccolo Machiavelli_

The Turks collected at the back, Cassio rubbing his ear, one could tell he disliked Araby. Vincent looked rather non-pulsed, but that was normal for him. Meanwhile, the second in command of the Turks, Michelle Tally, was feeling a migraine that promised to only get more aggressive. Araby’s account of the situation was less then reliable, but hands were tied. All three of them pretended not to notice the boy jumping from the tree. Tally knew where Vincent stood on killing kids, she wanted to think that Martin was coming around, though she guessed he just didn’t want to chase the kid. It would have been fine that way, had the ShinRa blue not yelled “there he is!” in a loud pitch.

“Cassio, car. Valentine, kid.” Tally snapped, storming off to have a word with the police chief.

Vincent locked eyes with the boy, and darted after him.

_"Few men are brave by nature, but good order and experience make many so.”  
Niccolo Machiavelli_

Emmerson had joined the track team his freshman year. Of all the reasons he remained on the team, he never thought that one of the good things about it would be running for his life. He tore down the street and into an industrial part of town. At first he heard the Turk-Vincent- behind him. Then, all he could hear was his heart beating.

He rounded a corner, only to have the Turk land in front of him. Emmerson skidded to a halt, almost bringing himself nose to nose with the tall man. Time seemed to pull in slow motion, the Turk landed silently before him. The messy pony-tail falling over his shoulder almost brushed Emmerson’s arm. They stared at each other a moment before Emmerson ran the opposite way, blinded in the dark.

He almost fell over a broken edge of the balcony. Emmerson wheeled his arms in an effort to keep his balance, pivoting as he did so. Before he fell backwards onto the tracks, the Turk’s arm gripped his collar. Once again, eerie blue eyes narrowed from under black bangs.

“Yer quick, ya know that?” There was almost laughter in his deep voice. “Not every day I get a run for my money.”

The ground rumbled as the train approached. They both turned their heads to watch its speedy approach.

Vincent smirked. “You think about my advice, and the next time you see me, we’ll chat.” He let go of Emmerson’s shirt and the young man fell, landing on the top of the moving train.


	4. Prelude: Not Just Passing Time Chapter Three:  Borgenian Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Not Just Passing Time**_  
> Chapter Three: Borgenian Beginnings

_**Not Just Passing Time**_  
Chapter Three: Borgenian Beginnings

_It seemed incredible that this day, a day without warnings or omens, might be that of my implacable death.  
Jorge Luis Borges -- "The Garden of Forking Paths"_

Emmerson Reeve had never been on a train before. At least, not on the top of one. He’d slid nearly off the last car as the item sped past the bridge and the dark-haired Turk. The sudden, lurching stop did little to help him, exhausted, frightened and totally out of sorts, Emmerson fell to the ground on the opposite side of the loading platform.

The wind rushed from his lungs, and the intake of air was putrid and foul enough to make him sit up and gag. Head spinning, he fell to his back. It was strange that his first coherent thought was that there was no sky.

The train moved before Emerson sat back up. His dark eyes narrowed at the puddle of…he didn’t really want to know- that made him retch in the first place. His head pounded too, feeling the side of his skull told of a large bump already forming. His tailbone also hurt. With a grunt he pulled his handgun from his pants. Well, he had a gun, a full clip and nothing else of value what-so-ever. “Wonderful.” He muttered to no one, replacing the gun.

He wasn’t left sitting for long, two lanky men in purple bandannas and worn clothing sauntered up to him. Looking down, Emmerson realized he was just about as worse for wear now, covered in train soot and sweat. “Ey…who doya tink ya are?” One sneered out from ugly teeth.

Emmerson closed his eyes, he’d known the slums would not be a nice welcome. What did that Turk tell him? Oh yeah…

Standing slowly, Emmerson’s eyes narrowed at them both. “None of your damned business.”

“Hoo boy… New Kid tinks he can show us lip?” They moved their hands to their pants.

Emmerson drew before they did, shocking himself with his lack of shaking. “You were saying?”

They both halted, one spit a large wad of chew from his mouth to splat into Emmerson’s much reviled puddle. “Ya talk funny, punk. Yer new in town.”

He bit back a retort that Emmerson was certain they wouldn’t have gotten anyway. “Yeah.” Was sadly lacking in wit, but all he could think of saying otherwise.

“I like ‘em Max.” The one without the chew said. His smile still lacked a few teeth. “You look’n fer anythin’ ta do, kid?”

“Em—Reeve.” He responded. “Name’s Reeve and I’m not interested.”

They shrugged. “Could ussa quick-pull like ya onna dese days.” Chew said before dipping again. “Ya eva wanna look us up, ya’ll find us.”

They stared at each other a while then, Reeve- he was going to be Reeve now- lowered his gun and nodded before all three walked away at once, though unlike the thugs, Reeve risked glances over his shoulder far more often then he felt was needed. The hair on the back of his neck stuck up and everywhere he went to find a place to hide was riddled with people that had the same vicious predatory look as Araby.

Hours passed before he found an unoccupied corner, near a large building. It stuck out as fairly new, at least renovated. People walking down the alleys mentioned a Don of sorts. Resting his head against the brick wall, Reeve sighed.

“Hey, kiddo, how much?”

“Ey! I’m talkin ta you!”

Starting, Reeve blinked at a large-shouldered man with cropped hair and massive black tattoo that covered the right side of his face and from the look of his hand, that whole side of his body. It was almost a full minute before Reeve computed what the man was asking for. The back of his neck crawled a bit and he snapped, doing a good job of imitating the drawls he’d been hearing, “aint fer sale.”

The man snorted in a knowing fashion. “I’ll check later.”

Reeve left that particular corner quickly after.

And went nowhere. There literally was nowhere to go, every corner looked the same, the people all looked the same, eyes downcast or scanning the crowd with a snarl. When a gunshot and scream went off a block away Reeve was the only one to even flinch. It earned a hardy bit of harassment from a local kid who walked away after having a gun pulled on him.

Reeve worried that he’d actually have to use it. Twice he’d pulled it now… could he fire it?

He’d located a bar, finally, and sat down across from it. No one paid much heed to him, all the action was at the bar. Reeve’s feet hurt, his head hurt, slumped over with his arms on his knees and his chin on his arms, Reeve started to fall asleep.

Gunfire woke him. Reeve jumped to his feet just as four people rounded the corner, shooting behind them. Before he could dodge down an alley, Reeve was right in the middle of it. A bullet bit the wall behind him, he barked out in pain as something bounced back into his shoulder. There was nothing else to do, Reeve pulled his own gun and started shooting back.

It was frightening that he wasn’t the only person with this response. Less than ten minutes later, Reeve was out of bullets and backpedaling while gun smoke and parts of the alley still were peppering the air. It was sheer luck that no one thought to chase him. How could he have used all his bullets like that? Where the hell were the cops?

Of course, he didn’t want to see cops anymore than the rest of those idiots did.

When he slid to a halt later, panting, Reeve realized he was once again at that street corner. And once again the large tattooed man showed up with a smile. “How about now, kid?”

His first response was, of course the same as before. Then Reeve started wondering how much a safe place to sleep would be worth. Finally, choosing life before death, he nodded. “Let’s talk about it.”

_Whosoever would undertake some atrocious enterprise should act as if it were already accomplished, should impose upon himself a future as irrevocable as the past.  
Jorge Luis Borges -- "The Garden of Forking Paths"_

Scarlet tucked her payment into her bright red jacket after counting it. She tossed a baggy onto the table that was immediately pounced on. She watched her customer stride away and sipped her drink, taking the time to smile and wave at a pair of Don Corneo’s girls who glared at her. They huffed and she felt smug.

So sue her, she didn’t care for most of his whores. They weren’t too bright, but there were very few privatized whores anymore, or so her clients lead her to believe. The door opened then, instead of another client, she saw someone she didn’t quite know.

One thing Scarlet learned early in her life was the value of eaves dropping. She went through the act of counting her money again; knowing people would speak up if she wasn’t paying attention to them.

“That’s the one. He’s good.”

“Who the hell is that? I ain’t seen that kid before.”

“Reeve. I think, Reed or something like that.”

The dark haired young man was definitely attractive for a whore, he lacked the dead look in his eyes and he smiled. She looked closer, smiling was a rare trait in the slums, she’d never seen an easy smile before. He turned and looked at her then, brown eyes smiled along with the rest of his face and he started over to talk to her.

Scarlet sucked in a breath and debated ducking her head. She was positively certain that the attractive whore was going to proposition her. She began to think up ways to repel whatever idiocy he’d use to pick her up with. Red Bombshell, she may have been named, but Scarlet was rather proud to be sixteen and still a virgin. She was a drug lord, they didn’t need to get mixed in with emotional things like sex.

He flipped the chair around in a self-assured manner and smiled wider at her.

Before the whore could say anything, Scarlet put her money away. “The clouds methought would open and show riches/ Ready to drop upon me.” She smiled herself preparing to watch his confused face while she lit her cigarette.

His smile didn’t fade, “that when I waked/ I cried to dream again.”

The cigarette holder and lighter snaked from Scarlet’s grasp. She captured the holder, but her lighter bounced twice on the table before the whore snatched it. “You… read… Tempest?”

He flipped the lighter on and leaned over the table in an offering to light her cigarette for her. Still in shock, she lit two. They traded the lighter for the lit cigarette. He puffed out a cloud of smoke before blinking down at it as though he’d never seen one before. “These are good.”

“Where the hell did you learn Shakespeare?” Scarlet continued, still flabbergasted.

The whore puffed contentedly on the cigarette a few moments before laughing at her. He… he laughed at her? “I could ask you the same thing, Bombshell.”

“Don’t call me that, whore.” It was cruel of her to say, but he’d burst her bubble. She had been entertaining the notion that HIS head would be the sore one, but now Scarlet was the one who’s brain felt a bit stressed.

He blinked at her and sat up a bit. “For someone counting a wad of cash you’re pissy, drug dealer.”

“I have a name, Scarlet.” She responded, taking an extra long drag on her cigarette.

He arched an eyebrow at that. “Emmerson, but I usually respond to cat-calls, brown eyes, how much and Reeve.”

“He left a Corsair's name to other times, Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.” Scarlet responded, making an effort not to laugh.

“Lord Byron now? Well, I should have brought the cliffs-notes… Will the whole conversation be other people’s thoughts, or can I use my own?”

His smile was damned infectious. Scarlet gave in to the one tugging at her mouth. “Well, that all depends on if you are looking for a Jane or someone to talk to.”

He stood, flipping the chair the proper way and leaned on the table. “You have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve talked to someone that can spell their own name? Work can wait.” He flicked the ash into the scratched ashtray. “So, what can I call ya? You don’t strike me as a Letty.”

“Scarlet. I’ve never had a use for a nickname…” She studied Emmerson Reeve for a moment before exhaling again. “But you look like an Em.”

_There is no intellectual exercise which is not ultimately useless.  
Jorge Luis Borges-- "Pierre Menard, Author of Don Quixote"_

Reeve blinked at the clock over the bar. “Shit.” He muttered.

Scarlet, who had been splitting her last cigarette with him blinked. “What?”

He didn’t really regret spending his night this way, but it was closing time and he had no where safe to sleep. “I didn’t expect to spend all my night talking. I don’t …” He sighed.

“Well, I don’t live far from here. You can always crash on my couch if you don’t feel like… you know.” Scarlet seemed uneasy around the topic of sex, Reeve found that strange. She really was pretty, he’d admit to just hoping she’d be a Jane for the experience. However, she was much prettier when she talked about Lowell Barron or how much she really did hate TS Eliot (A point he hotly contested).

“I don’t want to intrude.” He stated, old manners coming out. Had it really only been six months down here? Sometimes he felt like he’d just imagined the sky.

Scarlet shrugged, snuffing out their last cigarette. “You have to sleep with Kara, but she’s nice.”

They both stood and Reeve blinked at her. “Who?”

“Kara. My cat.” Scarlet laughed at him. “And ‘my cat’ is not code for anything.”

Reeve laughed. “Well, lead the way then.”


	5. Prelude: Not Just Passing Time Chapter Four: Capote Kaput

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Not Just Passing Time**_  
> Chapter Four: Capote Kaput

_**Not Just Passing Time**_  
Chapter Four: Capote Kaput

Morning… Reeve rubbed his eyes and grumbled, there was an unfamiliar warmth on his chest. The warmth rumbled. Reeve snapped his eyes open and blinked right at the face of a little grey tiger striped cat.

He laughed a little, it was comfortable on Scarlet's couch with her little cat curled up on him. His eyes felt a bit heavy before he realized that he had to use the restroom. "Morning calls." He told the cat.

Kara blinked at him, tilting her head to one side then the other before closing her eyes and stretching one paw out.

"You are going to have to move."

The cat ignored him.

"I have to piss, cat."

Kara turned to blink at him and stood up. But instead of hopping off, she walked up and touched her nose with his, still purring loudly. A moment passed and then her rough little tongue licked twice against his nose before she bit him gently.

"gaa!" Reeve sat up, not expecting a cat to nibble on him so early in the morning.

Kara flopped to the floor, the picture of indignity.

"I should have warned you, she's a biter." Scarlet yawned from the doorway, a large tee-shirt obscuring her shorts and her hair mussed from sleep. "So what do you do all day?"

Reeve popped his back grunting as the crackle snapped along his spine. "I usually lurk around wall market being bored out of my head." He took one hand and combed through his hair, a shake of his head brought as much order to it as he wanted. He looked at the doorway to the kitchen. "How about you?"

"I usually mix stuff up for clients, and try to work on my security." She tilted her head and frowned. "Door locks just don't do it ya know?"

One good thing about being a whore was that Reeve didn't really OWN anything he didn't carry with him. He never really stopped to think about home security. "Well, I could rig you up some cameras and automatic door locks?"

Scarlet blinked a few times and then smiled. "Oh yeah, you made your gun too didn't you?"

"Too?" Reeve arched an eyebrow.

In response Scarlet placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head up. She sauntered to the closet and lifted up a custom hand gun. "I consider myself a weapons specialist."

Reeve blinked, taking a moment to realize something. "I have to go to the bathroom. But when I get back, we are going to talk."

_"Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act._ _Love is a chain of love as nature is a chain of life._ _ "  
Truman Capote  
_

Hours later his stomach made a gurgling sound that could have been mistaken for a medium sized dog being drowned. "I think food would be a good idea."

Scarlet laughed at him. "Right, Em. What'cha in the mood for?"

That earned a blink. "You don't have to buy me lunch."

She got up and started putting her shoes on. "You're going to help me with my security, right? How else you want me to pay you?"

"Whatever, Letty."

Then without warning, Reeve was pelted with a shoe. This prompted a flailing from him, pitching him to the floor where he blinked up at Scarlet like she had another head.

"Scarlet's my name, Em, not Letty."

Ignoring her statement, brown eyes took in the shoe, then back up to Scarlet and back to the shoe. "You just flung a shoe at me."

"Yes, give it back."

Standing, Reeve lifted the odd projectile above his head. "Oh no, anything that attacks me is therefore mine."

So maybe he was flirting, regardless he hadn't expected her to tackle him. They rolled around on the kitchen floor, the poor shoe being tugged at. Finally Scarlet resorted to pinching his side. Then she learned that Reeve was ticklish. After a moment of bucking and laughing, she was pitched to her backside, shoe clutched triumphantly to her chest.

"Women and yer shoes." Reeve muttered, staring at a crack in her ceiling. "Can I please eat now? Or do you plan on beating me with a coat?"

She slid her shoe onto her foot and extended her hand to Reeve. "Now, coats aren't hard enough, I'd have to use an umbrella."

It had been a long while, Reeve realized, since he felt this good about his life. "Sure thing, so how about Scar?"

"I could pawn you off on some large man named Scratt… would you like that?"

"Well I'm expensive and I don't bottom if they are any bigger than-" He lifted his hands, making a circle.

Scarlet turned scarlet.

_"A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. That's why there are so few good conversations: due to scarcity, two intelligent talkers seldom meet."  
Truman Capote_

Reeve and Scarlet found themselves eating pepperoni bread and looking over various wireless monitors at a local pawn shop. They were being watched far too closely to pocket anything, and nothing looked worth paying for.

They walked out, pondering their next move. "You could flash him and I'll steal his stuff." Reeve offered, snagging a paper off the ground.

"Uhm.. how about no." Scarlet muttered, crossing her arms under her chest.

"Alright, I'll flash him."

"EMMERSON!" Scarlet snapped. "There will be no flashing." She was blushing again. She glared at him, but turned quizzical when he walked into one of the bars. "What are you doing?"

"Crossword." He held up the paper, "Junon, Genius Level"

"Race you." Scarlet smirked, asking for two pens and coffee. She snagged the paper then and started filling in a word going down.

"Hey, make room!" A poke in the side caused Scarlet to let the paper go, Reeve pinned it to the table with his hand over the vertical clues.

Scarlet had no qualms with pinching Reeve's hand making him move it out of her way. Shoulder to shoulder they pressed against each other, each one trying to distract the other.

"Stop making extra boxes!"

"Antidisestablishmentarianism will not fit any other way."

"That's because it's not the right answer, stay off my side!"

"You're just afraid of long words."

"Are you accusing me of ?"

Silence for just a moment. "You are the only other person I have ever met who knows that word."

"It is my favorite word."

"Plethora."

"A plethora of what?"

"That's my favorite word. It's fun."

_"Friendship is a pretty full-time occupation if you really are friendly with somebody. You can't have too many friends because then you're just not really friends."  
Truman Capote_

The crossword was declared a win on both sides, though in reality, Reeve would have won had scarlet not started drawing engine parts over his clues. After that, they made up their minds to go back to the pawn shop.

Parts in hand, half bought, half "liberated" they made their way back to Scarlet's. While Kara sat and watched from the counter she was not supposed to be on, they started creating a monitor system.

A knock on the door interrupted the momentary victory over the wires. Walking to the door, Scarlet peered in the peephole. "A cop?"

Reeve jumped to his feet. "A what?" he whispered harshly.

"Cop…" She muttered, starting to unlock the door.

"I ah… I should go." Reeve was already pulling a shoe on. Before she could ask, he stammered out "I'm wanted above plate for murder…and, ah.. stuff."

It was fairly obvious that Scarlet couldn't put him with the action. "You KILLED someone?"

Reeve shook his head. "No, but doesn't stop that they want me for murder."

She shoved him into the closet then, without another thought. "I believe you. Just sit tight, sometimes they show up for pay outs." With that, she walked to the door and opened it. "Can I help you officer?"

The cop glided in, smooth skin a little too pale to be completely healthy. "Some of the local druggies say you can fix some shakes."

"I don't know what you are talking about, officer." Scarlet backed away from him, into the kitchen.

He shook his head, twitching slightly and making a fist. "I need a fix. I need one that won't show up on piss tests, baby."

"I can't help you, officer."

Reeve pushed his way from the closet, walking around behind the cop slowly. He was fairly sure that the officer wouldn't have come after him even if he recognized him. Something about the way the man twitched, though…

"You really are pretty, baby." The cop said, striding forward again, that twitching hand moved to his gun.

Scarlet jumped then, going of her own, but the cop's was out before she crossed to the table. Kara hissed and took off up the stairs, proving a momentary distraction.

"How about you tell me what you can give me, baby."

Her eyes narrowed. "I've got mako, I can add some Triphetnol in it, but you really shouldn't-"

"Don't tell me what to do, baby." He stepped forward. "Ain't got a man in your life?"

"I don't need one. Get out of my house." She snapped. "I'm not giving you shit."

The cop stammered at that, not really computing that she told him off for a full moment. When he did move it was with all the speed of a coke addict needing a hit, something to slow him back down, he was moving too fast.

Too fast, Scarlet found herself pinned to the table, grasping for her gun. The same moment her hand closed over it and brought it up, Reeve was beside her, jabbing an empty syringe into the cops neck and jamming the plunger down.

The cop coughed, the air going into his veins, causing his heart to jump in his chest. Scarlet shoved the man to the floor then, watching him twitch for a moment before she put her foot on his chest and fired.

"Fuck…" Reeve patted his pockets, looking for cigarettes. "We just fucking killed a cop."

"Shit." Scarlet looked around. "FUCK his car's outside!"

They couldn't waste anymore time. Scarlet grabbed his arms, Reeve his feet and they carried the cop outside. Placing him in his own trunk. They looked at each other for a long minute. "I'll dump the car, alright?" Reeve was already getting into the driver's seat.

"Not without me, you aren't." the passenger door was yanked open before Reeve had a chance to protest. "We did this together."

They both knew they wouldn't get far. Flashing lights caught up with them before they even had a chance to get to the outskirts of town. Reeve punched the gas, but the Midgar PD were simply better drivers. Three minutes later and they had the car pinned; ten cops peered over various weapons.

Reeve and Scarlet got out, arms above their heads.

Slammed on the hood of the cruiser, Reeve growled at the officer patting him down. "Watch yer damn hands."

"Emmerson Reeve, been looking for you for a long time, who's the girl."

Before Scarlet could answer from where the female officer was searching her, Reeve responded. "Just a chick I picked up as a hostage."

The female cop produced Scarlet's gun and a bag of powder. "Drug dealer, weapons. I bet we could find another story."

Silence. Neither of them wanted to implement the other, and neither could think of a good way out. Then, there was a slam of a car door, too loud to be one door. Reeve looked over and he immediately recognized the blue eyed Turk.

The man beside him was a little shorter, far more serious faced with messy brown hair and his suit in very neat order. They looked at each other for a minute and then taking a deep sigh the shorter man spoke. "We will be taking them in, officer."

"And who the hell are you?" The cop behind Scarlet asked.

"Veld Dragoon, Turk." He answered simply. "Now, my time is quite important to me, please get out of our way."

The blue eyed one- Vincent, wasn't it?- smirked. "Yeah, sorry but ya'll are out of yer league." He lit a cigarette then.

The shorter man twitched. "Today, please officer?"

Still handcuffed, Reeve and Scarlet were redirected to a sleek, black car. Once inside, Veld Dragoon reached out and snagged the cigarette from Vincent's mouth. "Goddamnit, stop with the cigarettes, Vin."

Vincent leaned over the center council and smiled at Reeve and Scarlet. "Ya took my advice, then Emmerson? Good to know. He pulled out another cigarette.

"Don't you dare." Came the cold voice beside him.

Laughing Vincent chewed on the end. "I'm Vin, welcome to the Turks."

_"Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor."  
Truman Capote_


	6. Prelude: Not Just Passing Time Chapter Five: Emmerson's Emerson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**Ever have something you love that just can’t come together? That was this set of stories. After the compilations came out, I was confused at best. I wanted to proceed, I wanted to proceed and have fun, but I didn’t feel the spark. It’s back now. And so, I’m fixing up NJPT. Here is where I start to change things. Thank you so much for reading!

**Author’s Note:**Ever have something you love that just can’t come together? That was this set of stories. After the compilations came out, I was confused at best. I wanted to proceed, I wanted to proceed and have fun, but I didn’t feel the spark. It’s back now. And so, I’m fixing up NJPT. Here is where I start to change things. Thank you so much for reading!

_**Not Just Passing Time**_  
Chapter Five: Emmerson's Emerson

_"Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson_

The four of them lapsed into something that borderlined a comfortable silence. Vincent made three more attempts at lighting a cigarette before he'd successfully taken a puff and kept the stick from Veld, who glowered at him.

"Ah, sir?" Scarlet asked timidly. She cast a glance at Reeve and smiled.

Veld said nothing; his deep brown eyes slid up to the rearview mirror from the passenger seat.

She bit her lip and glanced at Reeve once again. "Ah… can I get a light?"

Veld rolled his eyes, but before he could speak, Vincent flipped a Zippo up to her.

Scarlet accepted the lighter and passed it to Reeve with one of her cigarettes.

"You're all going to die early of black, charred, and disgusting lungs." Veld huffed, cracking his window.

"Awww, Velly, don't worry, I ain't goin' to die early." Vincent winked.

"Bah."

"Cranky-"

"-don't you start, Valentine."

"Little. Brown. Sheep."

Veld reached out with amazing speed and plucked the cigarette from his partner's mouth. He flung the stick out the window then and snorted.

Vincent laughed, but he didn't try to light up again.

The ShinRa building loomed up in front of the car, over fifty stories tall and chapped towards its white curves with a soft, green glow of mako residue. Vincent sped the car through the busy intersections and slid into an underground parking lot.

"Anyone can park here?" Reeve asked.

Vincent smirked. "What do you think, kid?"

"I think you've got the hood chipped."

Veld laughed as Vincent parked the car. The two of them unbuckled their seat belts at the same time, getting out of the car and shutting the doors in perfect sync. Without a word they started into the building. Scarlet and Reeve had to rush to catch up before trying to fall into step with the pair of Turks.

As they walked by, people would stop and stare after them. Reeve swallowed, looking to Scarlet, but she wasn't paying attention to him, her eyes were roving the ShinRa building. Feeling nervous and a little exposed, Reeve focused on Vincent and Veld's heels.

Vincent and Veld really did move as a unit, it was strange because obviously, neither of them were paying attention to how they were walking. Even though Vincent was taller, his strides matched Veld's. They didn't make a sound as they walked, even though they had on boots and the floor was tiled. He wondered how much time Turks spent together; millions of questions were in his head. "How-"

Veld glanced over his shoulder. The look clearly told Reeve to shut up.

Reeve complied.

_"Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson_

The two blond Turks in the office on the fifty-sixth floor were familiar to Reeve. They didn't look up from their work as Veld and Vincent lead them into the office. It was large and would have been spacious if it didn't half resemble an apartment.

Against the far right corner a large refrigerator hummed. The back wall hosted a sink, shelves with glasses, a bathroom door, a fish tank that was filled with various bottle caps, and a dartboard. On the dartboard itself was a picture of someone that Reeve didn't know. The other corner of the wall was dominated by a very large, extremely fake, bright green potted plant.

The left wall had filing cabinets, lockers and an old TV against it. Milk crates made up a makeshift TV stand and held various assortments of movies. The back center of the room also held two threadbare futons, leaving the front of the room itself to be stuffed with six desks, two of them clean and unused.

"Smokers?" the blond man asked.

Veld rolled his eyes and walked to the desk next to the other man.

Vincent slid behind both of the desks, flopping down against the wall and next to Veld and propping his feet up on his own desk. "Yup," he motioned to scarlet with a Zippo. "Scarlet here even rolls her own."

The blonde woman had yet to look up, but the blond man smiled brightly. "Oh really?" He bent his head then, lighting a cigarette.

After smirking in Veld's direction, Vincent followed suit. "Ya, really."

Veld's dark eyes darted from the blond to Vincent before he reached under his desk. Upon sitting up, he had a spray bottle. Quickly, before the other men figured out what was going on, Veld misted down first Vincent, and then the blond man. "Bad, Cassio, bad." He squirted the blond again.

Cassio – who must have picked up smoking after Reeve had last seen him – ran his hand over his tongue, cursing. "Goddamnit, Veld!" he flicked his tongue out, scraping it twice along his teeth in an effort to rid him of the taste. "Asshol-" squirt. "I hate-" squirt. Finally, Cassio simply glared.

Vincent, who had been snickering, broke into full out laughter. He then was unceremoniously spritted.

By this time, both Reeve and Scarlet could smell a "fresh laundry scent". Scarlet turned from the desks, trying to hide her mirth behind Reeve's shoulder. Reeve himself bit the inside of his cheek, but was smirking all the same.

"Are you children done?" The blonde woman asked without a smile and in an even tone.

"Almost." Veld squirted them both again quickly before replacing the bottle under his desk. "Alright."

The woman leaned on the desk, cupping her chin in her hands. She sighed the sigh of a long suffering leader. "You sure?"

Veld mimicked her pose, leaving Cassio and Vincent looking a little like wet tomcats. "Yup."

"After that astounding display of professionalism…" The woman stood. Her grey eyes looked over first Scarlet, then Reeve. She walked around to the side of her desk, leaning against it casually. "My name is Michelle Tally. I am going to give you one chance to walk out of here. If you choose to stay you may ask us each one question a piece. Once you are done with those, you will not ask any further questions."

Reeve and Scarlet looked at one another, neither one willing to stay if the other didn't, nor did they seem willing to leave alone. The Turks had fallen silent. From their desks, three pairs of what had been amused eyes now narrowed at them. It was singularly unsettling.

Scarlet turned then, standing shoulder to shoulder with Reeve. She looked at Tally. "So, you're the boss?"

Tally smiled, crossing her arms under her chest. "Yes."

"You aren't going to test us on anything?" Reeve asked, not knowing if he should or shouldn't like that smile.

"You'll find, Emmerson that we know more about you than you do." Tally responded. When he opened his mouth to ask another question, she stood straighter, eyes narrowing.

Reeve swallowed his question.

Scarlet then turned to Cassio. "What do you do?"

His expression was blank, his tone professional. "Turks are professional conflict resolution specialists. My particular line of expertise is explosives."

Reeve didn't seem to have anything else to ask of Cassio. "When did you start smoking?"

Cassio's eyebrow quirked up. "A while ago."

Vincent smirked, but it wasn't the friendly one he'd had in the car, there was something calculatory about him. "Good memory." He then rubbed at his temple, smirk totally fading.

Veld glanced over then, sliding his eyes to Vincent before looking back seriously at Reeve and Scarlet. Cassio and Tally stiffened slightly, but it was barely noticeable.

Scarlet chose to ignore that and forged onward with the questions. "So, what do you do?"

"Intel." Veld leaned back in his chair. "I will also be the person you report to should Tally become unavailable."

"Personal Intel or distance?" Reeve asked, obviously interested.

"Whatever works."

Scarlet nodded simply and then turned to Vincent. "So, how about you? What do you do?"

He smiled. "I kill people."

Both Scarlet and Reeve took a step back. There was a pause where they were waiting for a punch line. After none came, Reeve put a hand on Scarlet's shoulder. "That's a rather… permanent way to resolve a conflict."

"Apt euphemisms are your friend, kid." Vincent responded. "I don't count that little bit of advice as a question."

'This… this is going to sound crazy," Reeve started, "but do you guys really have an evil scientist?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause. "Wait, what?" Reeve balked.

"Speaking of," Tally strode past the two shocked recruits and opened up a locker. "Dragoon, get another two desks in here. Tell Stella that she and Cassio have a new trainee when she and Irvane check in." Tally hung her jacket up on the locker door and pulled out two gun-belts. "You and Valentine also have a new trainee, so set up accordingly."

"Yes ma'am." Veld responded after sharing a look with Vincent.

Tally slid three guns into the holsters. "Right then, Reeve, Scarlet, move it." She strode out the door without another glance.

No one needed to explain to Reeve and Scarlet that Michelle Tally meant business. Her heeled boots were as silent as Vincent and Veld's flats. The Fifty-sixth floor had no other offices. A few battered vending machines sat in an alcove in the center of the single hallway. To the end of the hall were two opposing doors. Tally stood between them. "The training gym and assessment area is here." She pointed. "There is a lab located inside also, you are not permitted to go in there on your own." Then she smiled.

"Since today is hell day, however, we always let you play first." She held an ID card up to the other door. A green light flashed at the keypad and then the door slid open on its own. "Welcome to the toy store."

Like a vast library of weaponry, shelves collected in the front of the room and lined the walls. A metal cage dominated the entire right wall and ranges extended to the end of the room.

Reeve and Scarlet blinked together before they both exclaimed "Holy shit!"

"Have at it, kids." Just be careful, there are offices on the other side of the split level."

_"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Reeve would have preferred to stay in the armory. He would have almost preferred the company of Araby to the strange smell that wafted from the front laboratory in the ShinRa science wing. Tally had informed them that it was a front office of sorts and that they would be in the back labs for "treatments" but she didn't say anything else.

He hadn't expected to see people his own age in this department, but there were two young lab technicians, a blonde woman cleaning beakers in a sink and a young man with very bright red hair was working on files.

"Hallo, Tally." The red head spoke up, timidly. He smiled and adjusted his glasses.

The blonde waived with a pipe cleaner. "How are you doing?"

"Very well, Shalua, hallo Pepper." Tally smiled at them. "How has your first week been?"

Pepper glanced over at Shalua. The two seemed to silently debate who would answer before Pepper spoke. "We are getting used to it." He then flipped through the files. "Are these the new recruits? Professor Gast and Professor Hojo are busy at the moment." He slid out from the filing cabinets and extended his hand to first Scarlet then Reeve. "Hi, I'm Pepper."

“I’d shake, but you don’t want to touch my hands.” Shalua offered. “Everyone’s very helpful.”

Reeve let out the breath he had been holding. These people were friendly. They even seemed to be a little nervous. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was then the back doors swung open. Two men walked out into the labs, both of them were splattered with blood and pulling off gloves.

The older of the two had graying, brownish hair, though he didn't look as old as could be expected. He smiled warmly, stepping on a leaver on a hazard bin and dropping his gloves inside.

The younger of the two barely looked more than five years Reeve's elder. Where the brunette man looked a little spacey, this man had very serious features with a hooked nose and a pronounced forehead that told of mixed heritage when combined with his narrow eyes and thick, black hair. He was intellectually handsome and had the air of someone who wanted to prove himself. "I still consider this a partial success."

"You can consider it whatever you like, Seiichiro." The older man laughed and let the bin close. "However, rabbits are not people and you'd have to have a half-breed to study before anything could be certain."

The younger man – Seiichiro Hojo – frowned. "I'm aware, Professor Gast." He stated. “But according to Doctor Grimoire –oh, were we doing Turks today?” He leaned his weight on one hip, studying both Reeve and Scarlet.

“Yes, Professor Hojo.” Shalua peeked over the shorter Pepper’s shoulder. “Reeve, code 47952 and Scarlet, code 47953.”

"Thank you, Shalua." Seiichiro nodded and walked over, accepting a file from Pepper.

Pepper looked over at the other doctor. "Reeve and Scarlet." He offered as if he thought the other doctor needed reminded.

"Ahhh thank you very much, Pepper." Gast walked over to the sink, washing his hands. “Seiichiro will be handling the infusions today. He’s more than ready.”

The air in the room turned grim. “Are you sure.”

Seiichiro looked a little offended. “You’d trust Vincent with them.”

“When you take a bullet for me, I’ll trust you as much.” Tally commented. “I just don’t want a repeat of past mistakes.”

His face set into a mix between guilt and anger. “I’ve learned from that mistake.”

Tally simply nodded. “I’ll send Valentine and Dragoon to pick them up.”

The anger faded to something much more akin to guilt. “Do you have to?”

Her hair bobbed slightly when Tally turned on heel and strode away. Seiichiro wasn’t going to get an answer.

Reeve really didn't want Tally to leave him and Scarlet alone down there…

_"Don't be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson_

There was an uncomfortable silence as Tally exited the labs. Scarlet and Reeve looked at each other and then Gast clapped his hands. "Alright, Reeve and Scarlet was it?"

"Yes sir." Reeve spoke up.

He blinked. "Well you've got quite a nice voice, young man." It was a strange detail to pick out, considering where they were. Gast adjusted his glasses then and turned to Seiichiro. "I'd like to observe you with this, Seiichiro."

Hojo nodded, though he didn't seem pleased. Considering the previous conversation with Tally, it was no wonder. "Certainly, Professor Gast."

"Pepper, will you assist Professor Hojo for me?" Gast asked as he dug out some new gloves.

Shalua looked relieved and began to happily clean the beakers.

Seiichiro took a deep breath and then smiled at Reeve and Scarlet. "This isn't very nice, I'm afraid, but just keep calm and we can try to make it as easy as possible." He grabbed a pair of gloves out of a wall dispenser. "Please follow me?"

Scarlet and Reeve followed him. Through those doors was something Reeve would not have believed had he not witnessed it himself. The tile was darker, stained here and there with dark, rust-colored patches. The smell itself was strong and rank, sterilizations melded with metallic scents common from the back allies of the slums. Both Scarlet and Reeve covered their mouths and mouths with their hands.

"You'll get used to the smell," Pepper offered, "of course you're going to have some sensory issues to deal with, but don't worry, alright?"

"What, exactly, are you going to do to us?" Scarlet's tone was tight, muffled through her hand.

"Mako enhancements." Gast sounded very chipper from where he was walking next to Seiichiro. "It's a process all the forces go through, with minor alterations depending on your unit requirements." There was a sharp, yet strangled cry from one of the many side rooms to the hallway. "Oh bothers." Gast hurried ahead, stepping in a reddish puddle as he reached the door and pulled it closed. "Pepper, after you load the tanks, can you mop this hallway down?"

"Yes, of course Professor." Pepper looked a bit grim.

"Enhancements?" Reeve swallowed.

"It will just require a minimal adjustment. You're going to be light sensitive more than anything else. You do, however need to report anything abnormal to Tally or your immediate supervisor.” Gast’s voice drifted off.

“That would be Stella or Veld, as they are both Rank B.” Seiichiro responded in a helpful tone. He cast a glance at Gast. “They’ll explain everything once you get out tomorrow.”

"You were talking about abnormalities, Professor." Pepper offered after a silence.

"Was I?" He thought a moment. "Oh yes, I was, thank you Pepper." Once again Gast adjusted his glasses. "Any hallucinations, voices, interrupted thought, lost time in more than two hour intervals, and or pain that lasts continually for more than two weeks are all considered abnormalities." He waived a dismissive hand, walking after Hojo. "No worries. I wonder if Iffy is going to make lasagna… or did she say she was going to Vincent's… maybe I was going with her…"

"And we are the ones that need to report memory issues?" Reeve asked.

This made Pepper laugh. "To be honest, all Turks have minor abnormalities. You just learn to get by with them; Tally says that's all that matters. Oh and you really, absolutely, without a doubt, need to walk out of the lab on your own power."

"Or?" Scarlet finally let her hand drop from her face.

Hojo cleared his throat and drew their attention to his ponytail. "Just walk out." He hid his face by opening the door.

The lab smelled like sulfur. The tables and tools glowed slightly, casting the same green light as the ShinRa tower. Hojo was placing things up on a wheeled table with that off smile spread across his face. "Prep tubes nine and ten, Pepper."

"Yes Professor." Pepper went about his business in-between the rows of large, glass, pods. He pulled on hoses and busied himself with prepping the tanks.

Hojo wandered around, snapping things off shelves and looking totally in his element. "52 needs a full flux wire, up the J-cell and lower the M-cell to a minimal flow." He then tapped a needle, filling it with a glowing liquid. "Reeve?"

It dawned on Reeve that he would have to learn his code number. "…yeah?"

Hojo pointed. "Strip down and get in the tube, please."

_"Don't waste yourself in rejection, nor bark against the bad, but chant the beauty of the good."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson_

“So, do you like the new kids?” There was a woman flitting about the Turk office with a wedding band on her finger.

Veld was not married. "Yeah, Iffy. Smart kids, I'm not worried."

“So, why did you and Vince have a fight?” She spun, brown hair waved and then settled in a bouncy sort of curl about her face.

Veld himself pulled a face. “That bint he brought home with him.”

Ifalna worried her lip. “That’s not how he sees it at all. You can’t hate Suzi that much.”

"Oh yes I can, Ifalna."

"I swear, she isn't taking your place, don't act so jealous." She bent and adjusted her skirt.

"I'm not acting jealous whatsoever." Veld crossed his arms over his chest and looked off in another direction. "There is something wrong with her; she always looks at me like I'm some silly child."

"It'll make sense one of these days, Velly." She opened the door and waived without further explanation, leaving the room.

Veld groaned, sitting his head on his desk. He didn't look up when the door opened again.

"Eh, wha's wrong Velly?"

"Oh why don't you fuck off for once, Valentine?" Veld snapped into his desk.

Vincent growled at the ongoing argument. "If I had know it bothered you, I wouldn’t have."

"Are you deaf or something?" Veld snapped his head up, barely missing Vincent's nose as he whirled around to face the other man. "And what did I tell you about my personal space."

Vincent's black hair butted against Veld's brown, but he didn't move. "That you were going to strangle me one of these days?"

"Go invade Suzi's space or something." Veld spat, he tried to wheel his chair back, but Vincent's hands clamped down on the arms, preventing Veld from doing so.

Black brows drew together over his blue eyes. "Why don’t you bother Ifalna?” There was heat behind Vincent’s words, his eyes narrowed and something danced behind them.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Face. Valentine."

"No."

They glared at each other and Veld reached his hand out, grabbing Vincent's tie. He'd really meant to strangle him. In all honesty, that's what he'd meant to do. It was confusing then, when instead Veld's eyes pressed shut and his mouth met Vincent's. They rose to their feet, Veld fell back to sit on his desk…

… The phone rang then, and he suddenly remembered who he was. "Goddamnit!" Veld shoved back on Vincent's chest. "I TOLD you about that."

Ring.

Vincent loosened his tie. "You started it both times."

Ring.

"You didn't have to finish it both times!"

Ring.

Veld made an aggravated sound and snapped the receiver up off the cradle. "What!" There was a pause. "Oh, yeah… right. We'll be down to get them in a few moments."


End file.
